A Life Of Conflict
by Quadrantje
Summary: AU JC Ensign Kathryn Janeway has to find a way home when she's rescued from a Cardassian prison camp by the Maquis.
1. Introduction

Author's note: I've been working on this story for over two years and it's still far from done. It will probably be a while longer before I post more, because I want it to be almost done when I do. However, I wanted to post at least this introduction, to show you and myself that I'm doing something and because I'm so excited about this story and I hope you'll be too. So consider this a teaser/trailer.

Image was a Spring Fling gift from the wonderful Caffey.

Please review!

 **A Life of Conflict**

 **Introduction**

I wake up suddenly, my body buzzing with a sense of urgency I can't place. I'm staring up at a grey ceiling, which seems indistinguishable from any standard shuttle or sickbay ceiling. Yet something, I can't pinpoint exactly what, is different. I'm absolutely certain that I'm not aboard a Starfleet ship. The realisation makes me jerk up. Too fast, it turns out, because a pounding headache stops me before I get fully upright and the pain forces me to slump back down and rest on my elbows. Though I hate to spend even one moment in ignorance, I force myself to keep my eyes closed and take deep breaths. After a few moments, the pain subsides to a more manageable level. Only then do I reopen my eyes, waiting that extra moment for the black stars to recede to the edges of my vision. I relax when the light doesn't aggravate the pounding in my head. Then I sit back up, more carefully this time. My whole body aches, but I ignore it as I look around. The room I'm in is unfamiliar and looks anything but friendly. It's dark and bare, as far as I can see made completely out of cold steel. I recognize the glittering at the far end as a forcefield, locking me inside. And it's too warm. Maybe that's what tipped me of that I'm not at Starfleet anymore.

I'm lying on the floor, with a wide ledge or shelf next to me. Now that I'm sitting, it's at about shoulder height and it looks large enough to lie down on. I think it's sturdy enough to hold my weight, so I use it to hoist myself to my feet. The ledge, like everything else, is made of metal and cold to the touch in the otherwise hot room. I'm already beginning to sweat, though I'm just wearing my tank and regulation trousers, both of which look decidedly the worse for wear. There's no sign of my jacket and my hair has come undone. I reach up to retie it in a low ponytail, but my hands shake badly, making it rather difficult. I know that it's the adrenaline coursing through my veins, a sure sign of the panic that threatens to swallow me whole.

I jump at the sound of a loud _clang,_ coming from somewhere outside my cell. The sound reverberates painfully though my head, distracting me so much that it takes me a moment to realize that I wasn't the only thing in the cell to move. Across from me, beneath another ledge, a heap of rags comes to life, accompanied by a chorus of moans. I drop into a defensive crouch, facing the heap but careful not to turn my back on the forcefield. A second later, I recognize my commanding officer. The sight of him releases a wave of relief so powerful my knees almost buckle. I'm not alone. Surely the Captain will know what to do.

I wait as he shakes off the effects of our violence-induced slumber and takes in our surroundings. A large purple bruise stands out vividly against the too-pale skin of his temple. The shooting pains that have been radiating from my side since I've gotten up hint at a similar injury. I probe the site carefully, but can't find a wound, though the reddish-brown stain that saturates that side of my tank top can only be dried blood. Aside from the tenderness, however, my side seems perfectly fine. My head is still pounding with every beat of my heart, but aside from that I seem to be no worse for wear. I reach down to help Captain Paris up, gritting my teeth as the downward movement makes the pounding in my head worse. Judging by Paris' groans, he is worse off than I am. The thought does nothing to slow my heartbeat.

'Captain, are you alright?' I ask when he's fully standing. He looks at me sideways, still catching his breath. Though when his answer comes, his voice is surprisingly strong.

'I'm fine, Ensign,' he says. Then, after he's glanced around our cell, 'Report!' The familiar command helps to quell my rising panic. But as I tell the Captain all I can remember, most of the details only coming back to me as I tell the story, I can feel myself growing colder. Our present surroundings, coupled with my reawakening memories, make it abundantly clear who our captors must be: Cardassians. Even I, fresh out of the Academy, have heard the stories. They're ruthless, hierarchical, proud and merciless. That doesn't sound like a good combination for their prisoners. Despite the heat, I shiver.

 **To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Don't expect the updates to become a regular thing. I'm still a very slow writer and this story is far from finished. However, this chapter has seen enough rewrites, so it should be safe to post. I've never, ever rewritten a story this much.**

 **Chapter 1**

The two of us are left alone a long time. Hours must have passed without any sign of our captors. The Captain confirms my memories, but has little more to add. We make as little mention of Lieutenant Halliwell as possible. I saw the intelligence leave his eyes, just before I lost unconsciousness, and he isn't here, or in any of the adjoining cells. I don't need to hear the words to know that he's dead.

My headache seems to have faded away, leaving behind nothing more than a heaviness at my temples. The Captain seems a bit unfocussed, but I try not to notice. After we've discussed everything we can remember, he says there is nothing we can do but wait and conserve our strength, and he sits down on the second ledge. He still looks winded, as if just standing up and talking exhausted him. It scares me, so I try to focus on something else. I narrow in on the nearest wall, searching it carefully for any hint of weakness; for anything that might facilitate our escape.

Captain Paris doesn't get up to help me. He must know how pointless my actions are, I certainly do, but he doesn't try to stop me either. He probably knows that this search, however futile, is the only thing keeping me calm. After searching the whole cell, with the exception of the wall from which the Captain's ledge hangs, without result, I slump on my crude cot, my energy momentarily exhausted.

I've barely sat down when we hear a door opening and at least two pairs of footsteps marching in our direction. It's the first sign since we woke up that we're not alone. I scramble up again, desperately trying to think of some way to stand up to them, or use their presence to our advantage. Perhaps instead of searching our cell, I should have been lying in wait, like in one the historical holonovels I like. But no. Unlike in those novels, there is no door to hide behind, only the forcefield. They'd be fools if they lowered it without checking on us first. I could try to attack them, but that'd be extremely stupid. The only thing I can do is protect my Captain, so I move in front of him. Though I'm short enough that he towers over me, at least I block most of his chest from the direct line of fire.

Though we've already guessed the identity of our captors, it's still an unwelcome shock to see two Cardassians appearing in front of the forcefield. They look threatening in their dark uniforms. Tall. Uncompromising. They come to a halt in front of the forcefield. 'Lower forcefield of cell 378,' one of them says and the forcefield sparkles out of existence. My confidence falls further as I realise there are more Cardassians close enough to monitor us. But I keep the resolution on my face, looking them in the eye defiantly, even though I have to look way up to do it. They don't even care. Their eyes pass over my head as if I am nothing.

'Prisoner 24601, come with us.' The nearest guard says, probably looking straight at Captain Paris. I decide then that no matter what they do or what weapons they have, I won't let them separate us. I tense, ready to attack the moment they come close enough. But the only movement comes from behind me. I've been so focussed on the Cardassians that I didn't hear the Captain step up behind me, but I feel his hand as it falls on my shoulder.

'Stand down, Ensign,' he says. I hesitate, wavering between following his order and listening to my gut. My training wins and I step aside, watching Captain Paris move past me. The Cardassians don't even come into our cell, they just keep their position right outside, waiting for their prisoner to come to them. Their certainty infuriates me and for a moment I want to do something stupid, but logic reasserts itself. There's nothing I can do besides get myself and possibly the Captain killed. The second Captain Paris steps across the invisible line where the forcefield used to be, the Cardassians grab him and start to drag him away. I can't keep still any longer and run after them, but the forcefield comes back online half a second later and I only just stop myself from rushing into it. Against every instinct I have, I wait silently as they take the Captain further away.

I'm left alone. Once again, having no purpose but to wait. I try to sit, but feel the strain of inaction almost immediately. Instead, I start to pace. Back and forth, until I'm too miserable to continue and slump down on the ledge once more. Feeling grim and useless, I try to think of something useful. The heat tries to lull me into lethargy and I keep having to shake myself out of a drowse.

 _XXX_

I don't know how much later the sound of screams jerks me out of a sort of trance. It takes no more than seconds for the adrenaline coursing through my veins to rouse me to full alertness. Only now do I realise how silent it has been. I have heard no voices, no footsteps except those of the two guards. No rustling of fabrics or murmuring; nothing at all to indicate the presence of a single living being within earshot. Until these screams. They set my teeth on edge. Fretfully, I begin to pace again. Anything to keep my mind off those terrible shrieks. I know they belong to my Captain.

When I can no longer ignore them, I try to find the source of the screams, getting as close to the forcefield as I dare in an attempt to look down the corridor. If I crane my neck and press my head against the wall, I can see a few meters into the adjoining corridor. If I glance right, I can see that the hallway ends in a wall, our cell the last of the hallway. The door must be somewhere at the other end of the corridor, but I can't see it. Are we the only prisoners here?

The screams continue, each one trailing an ice-cold path down my spine. It takes me a while to realise how much I'm shaking. In an effort to calm myself down, I try to think of something to do, anything at all, but I can remember nothing. All my training says is that if there's no route of escape, to sit tight and wait for rescue. Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't resist. I'm not sure I'm capable of that. Sitting around, waiting for someone else to come to my rescue is not my usual style. However, I don't seem to have a choice.

Giving in to defeat, I finally huddle in a corner of my cot, covering my ears in a futile attempt to block out the Captain's screams, and try to rest.

 _XXX_

Sleep eventually reclaims me, but even there I'm haunted by the terror of my waking world. My dreams are filled with running. With dark dangers always lurking and screams that I sometimes desperately try to reach and at other times flee from. I wake up already out of breath, feeling as if I really have been running all night. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm the beating of my heart. It takes me a few moments to realise that I'm not alone. The cell is almost completely black, but I can see a dark outline. It's just inside the confines of the cell, stepping right through where the forcefield used to be. The presence is probably what woke me. Judging by its size and shape, as well as the way it moves, I suspect it's humanoid, but that's about all I can make out. The cell was dimly lit before, but now all the lights are off, both inside and outside my cell. There is only a vague light shining from somewhere further off. I wonder if it's night. Have I been here so long already?

I don't have time to consider all the implications, because it – I think it's male – starts to walk towards me. His eyes have probably adjusted to the darkness, as mine have, because he moves straight for me. He's so close I can smell him. His scent is unlike that of the cleanliness-obsessed Cardassian guards, musky and threatening. My first instinct is fear and I try to shuffle away, deeper into the cell, though I know I can't evade him in the small confined space. Even so, I'm too scared to stay put or to make a sound. Besides, there's no one who will come to my rescue if I scream. That's when I realise the earlier screams have stopped. Does that mean the Captain is safe or that he's – I can't finish the thought. My attacker takes advantage of my momentary distraction and reaches for me. My training kicks in and before I'm consciously aware of his movement I've fallen backwards to evade his grasp. The moment my back hits the ledge, I start kicking at him with all my strength. Don't give him an opening, I think. My panic has dropped away, leaving only a steel resolve to fight with everything I have. However, the ledge is barely wide enough for me to lie on; there simply isn't enough room for me to defend myself. Within seconds, I feel the solid metal beneath me vanish as I roll off the edge and fall to the floor.

I try to cushion the fall with my arms, but the angle is all wrong. The moment my left hand makes contact with the ground, a sharp pain races up my arm. The sting momentarily takes up all my focus, and my vision blurs completely. My attacker doesn't waste a second. He's on me immediately. I try to ignore my injured arm, but I've landed face-down, which severely limits my options for self-defence. Despite my best efforts, my attacker manages to pin my arms behind my back in a classic wrist lock. The pain in my left wrist is excruciating, making me struggle even more desperately. My vision shrinks as the edges become dark stars. I take big gulps of air as I fight both him and the unconsciousness that threatens, but he uses his own weight to push me against the floor. I know I've lost, but I keep struggling, terrified of what he might want. It isn't until I hear his voice that I still.

'Calm down. I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to get you out.' His voice is calm despite our struggle, and warm. The idea of escape, of being rescued, washes through me. This is what my Starfleet training promised: sit tight and we'll rescue you. Without a conscious thought, I feel my body relaxing. For a moment, he sinks into me further as his weight is no longer offset by the tension in my torso. He realises my surrender quickly though, because almost immediately I feel him ease up. His hold on my wrists slackens, which thankfully reduces the pain to a dull throbbing. I can breathe again. After a moment, he carefully releases my hands. Instinctively, I pull my left wrist against my ribcage, trying to protect my injured limb. When I make no move to resume our fight, my attacker/rescuer slowly stands up, giving me more space. I turn around, slowly, mindful of any sudden movements. I still can't see much in the near darkness, but I am aware that he holds his hands in front of him, palms up, in a universal gesture to show that he's unarmed and means me no harm. More importantly, I now see that the forcefield blocking the entrance of the cell is still out.

I quickly avert my eyes, just in case he is my enemy and has better night vision than I do. I don't want him to know what I'm thinking until I'm ready to make a move. I get up, making sure to exaggerate my weakness as I use the moment's respite to catch my breath.

'Who are you?' I ask, careful to keep my eyes on him instead of the exit.

'I'm Chakotay,' he says. His voice is as smooth as honey as it runs over the unfamiliar name. I want to melt into it, release all my fear of the past few hours and just embrace the idea of freedom, but I force myself to stay alert. A beat of silence follows his name. 'But let's save the twenty questions for after we get out of here.' It's the hint of humour in his voice that finally convinces me he's not a threat. And anyway, what do I have to lose? With one last glance at my attacker turned rescuer, I run past him and out of the cell. The sound of his footsteps behind me tells me he's fast on my heels.

 **To Be Continued**


End file.
